Life levels all men. Death reveals the eminent.

Men and women belong to different species and communications between them is still in its infancy.

Nothing is ever done in this world until men are prepared to kill one another if it is not done.

We learn from experience that men never learn anything from experience.

Men have to do some awfully mean things to keep up their respectability.

Men are wise in proportion, not to their experience, but to their capacity for experience.

Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears.

Christmas in Bethlehem. The ancient dream: a cold, clear night made brilliant by a glorious star, the smell of incense, shepherds and wise men falling to their knees in adoration of the sweet baby, the incarnation of perfect love.

I am looking for a lot of men who have an infinite capacity to not know what can't be done.

A woman who is willing to be herself and pursue her own potential runs not so much the risk of loneliness, as the challenge of exposure to more interesting men - and people in general.